


A Bond, A Fellowship

by Bowieandqueen11



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29027673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowieandqueen11/pseuds/Bowieandqueen11
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Reader, Frodo Baggins/You
Kudos: 5





	A Bond, A Fellowship

Even such starlight couldn’t burn away these shadows.

You knew Rivendell would be ethereal - you had expected at least this much. After all, one can only grow up with a sense of wanderlust, of awe for the winding trails and gold flecked forests that lay outside your door, under the tales of Bilbo Baggins, and his journey to the Misty Mountain. You had expected Frodo would be just as happy, even when deep within your heart the truth had pained you during your travels. 

The two of you had spent so much of your juvenility trampling along the fields of the Shire - mud from the tilled earth flecking your bare feet as the two of you would tumble down the rolling viridescent hills. Frodo would try his best to clamber up his tree whilst still holding his book, and you would laugh in plain delight as you catch the blur of his suspenders fall down into the wild bush underneath. 

Days upon days would be spent together, the falling sun of the gold soon mixing with the rising hope of the violet hued mornings as the two of you enacted your tales of adventure and heroics. Linked arms, wild singing, trampling footsteps, quiet whisperings and giggles of two hobbits in cahoots, two hobbits that were bound together in a way they didn’t quite understand, didn’t quite know how to articulate quite yet. Not in this stage of their journey. The air crackled with the sound of scrunched grass and crinkled leaves, and with some easy fellowship, some resolute companionship, as the two of you spent your days knowing you would never rather be in anyone else’s presence.

Even Gandalf on his rare visits to Bilbo (despite the heated looks from your neighbours) managed to find his way through the winding paths of the Shire, was more than happy to oblige your antics. Clearing his throat, he would pull out his pipe and take his seat next to the roaring fire, the two of you lying up on the floor by his feet. Elbows touching, and head held in your hands, the two of you would be wide eyed, hooked upon every word. Bilbo would scoff from time to time from her he sat, snuggled down in his favourite armchair, crocheting. Yet even he couldn’t help but end up mesmerised. Soon, even he was joining in, creating shadows on the walls to narrate the story as Gandalf sparked some magic to set the room ablaze with the wrath of Smaug’s desolation. 

His neighbours, unluckily, were prying folk, and they could smell the aftermath of Gandalf’s magic in the air. Poor Bag End may have had a number of noise complaints bright and early the next morning: a number of hobbits knocking on the door and grumbling about shadows dancing and growing at the window as bright light flickered out onto the rickety old gate in the middle of the night.

‘Jealous, aren’t we?’, Bilbo half laughs and half grumbles, as he shuts the door on their faces.

One day, not too long ago, when something felt different in the spring wind that blew over the Shire, when something felt changed about the sun that kissed the lilac and periwinkle petalled flower pots that lay on the rutted edges of the pathways, and upon the cracking edges of the brick windowsills, Frodo had made you a promise. You could see those bright, lively eyes peering at you from behind the top edge of his book, until he finally drops it down from his lap. With a mischievous grin, he grabs the apple you were fiddling with from your lap (’A token’, Pippin had stated as he rushed to hand it to you, ‘from Farmer Maggot’), and instead replaces the missing object with his own hand.

‘Y/n, do you think we will ever dare to leave this quiet countryside?’

Squeezing his fingers, you draw your knees up until they’re resting gently upon his own breeches. ‘Frodo, I must admit, I am afraid. What if we go out, swept away by the world, and come back not as ourselves, but as someone else? What if evil chooses to follow us, instead of the good in this world, and we find ourselves lost? I would like nothing more than the taste of adventure, but I too do not wish to lose the threads of this life, this beauty we have left here in the Shire.’

Frodo looks upon you for a moment, as if seeing something new within each glance. At first he frowns, obviously displeased with his conclusions, but then his eyes settle into their usual warm glow, homely, and his chest begins to puff with laughter. Finally settling himself, he reaches himself forward, your hand still grasping tightly onto his own, with a promise of never letting go. The touch is so slight, so fond upon your forehead, that for a moment you barely notice he has begun to speak.

‘Then I shall promise I will never leave your side. Wherever we go, we go together, and then we can never be lost. I believe it is our fate that one of us will always follow the other.’

And so you had found yourself trawling on behind Frodo, backpack a heavy burden on your small frame. You had watched him the entire time, the rise and fall of his cape as the six of you trekked onwards, something heavy beginning to weigh down his eyes, as if he already knew the unfairness of his fate. You had stayed by his side when the Witch-King stabbed Frodo at the Weathertop, crying out in pain with him. Holding him, comforting him, never leaving his side until he had reached the safe haven of the elves.

It seemed as if he had been asleep for an age. Or, perhaps, his time spent healing had only hurt you so much, as it was the first instance you could remember being parted involuntarily from him. 

You knew your brother Samwise was only trying to help, but your mind just couldn’t seem to focus on the words that kept tumbling heavily out of his mouth. Elrond had been and gone with his usual grace, Aragorn usually accompanying him, in the guise of business but in reality he was rather fond of you, and wanted to make sure you were holding up alright. Only Samwise had stayed with you, as you took a break from Frodo’s bedside and instead wandered out into the vast realm even you barely could have dreamt of as a child.

Starlight barely seemed to graze the luminescent beauty of the fortress, and despite your woes you couldn’t help but become distracted by the place. Sam had lead you here, to a little nook he had discovered when he went off investigating down a certain passage past the winding staircase to the right - as he had said. The water below moved so smoothly below the garden bank, it was almost criminal to have it so covered by the bold trees and sickly smelling flowers that seemed so similar to home’s, it only increased your heartache.

‘You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you sister? Now, don’t lie to me, I know by the way you’re scrunching your nose something serious is troubling you, and it’s not just all the blasted singing.’

Placing a foot up onto the stone cold bench, you turn to look at your brother with a half-hearted attempt of an amused grin. His smile seemed to falter at the look, and it only made you feel worse.

‘Don’t worry yourself, Samwise. You’ve already taken on more than you’re fair sure. You shouldn’t trouble yourself with my silly thoughts.’

Sam humphed at this, a placated smile finding its way back on his face. 

‘But I’m your brother! I’m always going to worry about you; I’ll always be here to lift your woes,’ he reaches out gently to wrap an arm around your shoulder and appreciate the view that expanded the depths in front of you. ‘And you can’t slip it past my eyes that your thoughts are about Master Frodo.’

You sigh and shake your head, letting your chin fall down to the floor. A spark of worry seems to dampen Sam’s normally honeyed eyes as he turns his head to look at you, but he knows better than to make it known. Instead, he allows you a moment to sit, and collect your thoughts until you were ready to speak. Despite the silence, neither of you had heard the whooping laughter of Merry and Pippin as they run and jump over to an awakening Frodo. Neither, had you heard Frodo gently push them off with a hug and alleviated heart, instead stating that he had to find you and lift your worry. In fact, neither of you had heard the gentle pit-pat of halfling feet as they wandered down the halls, confused, until they reached a certain staircase, and recognised a certain pouch of salt Samwise had accidentally dropped at the entryway.

‘This ring is already such an almighty weight. I do not wish to burden him further, with feeling he may not even return. It would not be proper of me, to place my own feelings, my own selfishness, before him.’

‘And how exactly, may I ask, do you know he will not return them? Master Frodo is an honourable hobbit, sis, but he would also be a fool not to see how happy you two make each other.’

‘Yes, but love Sam. Love is another matter completely.’

Before Samwise even had time to fully open his mouth, Frodo had brushed past the willow tree overhanging the entrance to the hidden garden. Brushing a few cream petals from his curly locks, he stood looking at you with a beaming smile on his face.

‘Love, Y/n! Why, you happened to take the word straight out of my mouth.’

Sensing what was coming, Samwise chuckles as he stands up and leaves the two of you talk, patting his friend on the shoulder as he went. Frodo, instead, took his place next to you. It felt comfortable, familiar, all the beautiful things love should feel like as his thigh connected with yours. 

For a moment, you couldn’t stop your mouth from stammering, and he just sat there without blinking, laughing at your expression. Finally, he reaches a finger up and places it under your chin, until your mouth has nowhere to be except in a straight line.

‘Frodo, I-’, you stammer out, but he stops you by placing his nose against your own.

‘You could never be a burden, Y/n. In fact, knowing you love me too is the only source of comfort I’ve had since we set out from the Shire.’

Pulling back, he takes your hand and places the two over his chest, covering the ring of power completely.

‘I don’t know what the dawn will bring, or what Gandalf will want of us, or even where we may end up on our adventure through Middle Earth, but I came up here because I was certain of one thing in my life. I love you as well.’


End file.
